Unexpected meeting
by GWSdragon
Summary: Drizzt is scouting for orcs and finds one, a very pecular one indeed. rated for violence and for possible future language... yea, suck at summeries, R&R.
1. Introduction:unexpected meeting

A.N:I do not own Drizzt and family, only the original characters and many of the R.A. Salvatore books. So, plz, no suing, any semblance for another's work is accidental to the utmost degree. Oh, and this is my first fic, so be gentle in your reviews. ;)

The icy cool wind whipped around the heavily cloaked figure. Observing the snowy barren landscape before him, he turned around. Facing the barely visible trail that led back to his home, the great Mithral Hall.

'Maybe I'll find some of the more stupid orcs on my way back' hey thought to himself as the wind blew some of his snow white hair in front of his deep lavender face. ' yes, I really should go back, the cold will only get worse. And if I'm not back before long, Bruenor might arrange a search party.' smiling at the thought of his friend, the king of Mithral Hall, gathering what was left of Pwent's gut busters to find him before the end of one day.

He started his wayward trudge back to the Hall, and the warmth and food inside and reminisced of what led him to where he was, physically and emotionally. After Oboulds apparent defeat and the disappearance of Cattie-Brie's intelligent and evil blade 'cutter'. Drizzt and Cattie-Brie confessed their feelings to each other, and Drizzt traveled once again to the place Ellifain died and gave her a final burial. Thus ending some closure to his internal conflict. After he came back to Mithral hall, he spent the time waiting until spring be making frequent excursions into Oboulds 'kingdom' and thinning out the ranks of orcish warriors. Thus he was now returning from his latest excursion, which to his chagrin, was pretty fruitless.

Up until now that is, as Drizzt happened upon a group of 10 of the foul beings as he went over a hill. He went into a duck and glanced over the hills small ridge, hoping he wasn't spotted. Fortunately this was not so. As he observed the group, he spotted something off about them. They seemed to have one of their own kind as a prisoner. A tall one draped in a heavy wooly robe in tatters that was a faded crimson color. His arms were shackled behind his in such a way that he could not even move his fingers in any form. A frayed but sturdy hempen rope formed a sort collar and lease that one of the other orcs pulled him by.

The other orcs were all dressed and outfitted in a similar fashion. Large fur cloaks bundled around worn scale armor and each was wearing a weapon on their shoddy leather belts and a full pack on their backs. Except for the lead orc and the one pulling the leash attached to the prisoner. Which both had a spear with cruel barbed tips

'Hmmm… I wonder what this is about…' the dark elf thought to himself, 'perhaps I should follow them and glean what I can before disposing them.' With that he started following them making as little noise as possible.

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Timothy was in a foul mood. Most would agree with him at this moment though, as all but the sick minded would be in a nasty demeanor is they had their arms bound behind their back and were being pulled rather roughly by a surly orc that made sure to tug the makeshift collar/lease combo of a rope around his neck as often as possible.

Even so, Timothy never felt at ease around his own kind. He found that their lust to destroy and plunder was uncouth, and wished none of it. The only reason he came up to the Northlands was that he felt the need to fight this 'king' Obould that had laid claim to so much of surface land. Timothy wanted to stop this, for if Obould wasn't stopped, there would be so safe land from him. Then what would happen? The drow for one might seize the opportunity to spread themselves out onto the surface as well, and then all of the good in the world would probably be enslaved. Timothy had been seen the sad life that a slave lived, and wished it upon no creature, no matter who or what they were or had done.

The orc in front of him gave another sharp tug and sneered at him, to which Timothy just glared at with all the hatred he could ever muster.

"you're a spell thrower, king Obould will love to eat you and gain your power, and Thorg will be rewarded greatly for such a feat! He then reward us who do his work with good food and slaves!" he slurred out in the happy tone of an ignorant dog content with his place in the world.

Timothy looked at his current driver coldly, then smiled "to bad that won't happen. I doubt Thorg will even acknowledge you even helped. He'll probably take all the glory and reward for himself. And just slaughter you like the sheep you are" he replied loud enough so that only his driver heard him.

"you lie badly! Thorg never would do that! I'm too loyal and helpful to kill!" he sputtered out in an equally quiet voice, a small hint of equal parts doubt and panic in his voice, "Thorg like me too much."

"You think he would, but I heard him, he's going to poison you like a coward" Timothy whispered back to him. The driver then pulled Timothy up close and punched him in the sternum and then threw him into the freezing cold snow.

"YOU LIE! Thorg good to me! He never be coward! He brave and smart!" The driver shouted as he then kicked Timothy in the side until the others pulled him away. Timothy noticed they took quite a while.

He had barely regained his wind when they then pulled Timothy to his feat very violently and rabidly, causing the him to become lightheaded and nearly fall back down, and he would've had they not pushed him forward to get him moving again. They switched drivers as a female orc taller than him grabbed the lease and pulled him strongly to follow. He still felt where Thorg's most loyal lackey had kicked him and probably cracked a rib or two. He decided to not listen to anything this driver might say and tuned everything out, effectively making himself deaf. He winced as he stumbled while deep in thought and hit the ground. Landing in wet section of snow.

'Where'd this slush come from?' he thought as his eyes focused on thee color in the fading light of the afternoon. The color, Timothy slowly realized, was just that of his faded robes, but darker though. 'Blood!' he tried his best to feel his body, which was difficult with his hands behind his back. And concluded that it was not his own, he looked got himself into a seated position and observed around him, returning his hearing back to better understand what happened. Or as he now heard behind him, what was going on. Quickly he turned around to see the other orcs chaotically doing battle with a heavily cowled and cloaked fighter wielding two scimitars. Two were already dead including Timothy's former driver. The warrior was busy dispatching the other 7 of the band.

He struck one down with a downward strike of his left scimitar and then moved with unearthly speed as he danced (during which Timothy swore he saw some white hair fall out from the cowl around three others to cut the forth across the gut through his armor. Then, nimbly dodging a barbed spear thrown by Thorg's loyal follower he maneuvered to him and released him of his mortal coil with an upward slash with the blade in his right hand. Two started to run as the what seemed to be the last one, armed with a cruel looking hatchet, started to charge the ambusher. Only to be impaled by the attackers sword.

Timothy looked at the attacker in a mixture of fear, gratitude, and curiosity when out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the orcs silently get up, without thinking, he stated muttering to himself unintelligibly. Suddenly he released 2 bolts of energy that screamed towards the orc about to stab the fighter in the back with a rather nasty looking knife. They hit, hard, into the orc's abdomen and chest, causing him to crumple into the snow. The attacker turned around and looked at the body of the would be backstabber and then at Timothy. Then, looking bewildered, said in a heavily accented form of the common tongue,

"You can cast spells?"

A.N: 2nd chapter coming soon! Please Review! PLEEAAASE CRITISIZE ME!


	2. to the hall and entrance

Disclaimer: I do not own the forgotten realms or any of R.A. Salvatore's chars. What I DO own is a bag of dice, a bunch of books, a computer with internet and a word processor, and the most important thing, IMAGINATION!

"You can cast spells?" The dark elf asked the bound orc sitting in the snow, a few feet away from many dead orcish soldiers under the command of Obould Many-arrows.

"yes, yes I can, and you're a drow living on the surface, the worlds a strange place. Let's discuss this over some food. Preferably soon and with me unshackled!" the orc retorted sharply in highly cultured common tongue. His voice raising in frustration towards the end but without any hint of fear or hatred in his voice at all.

Drizzt bit back a laugh as he stared at the orc in wonderment, the only people who spoke to him without fear or hatred were his dear friends back at Mithral Hall. He then shook his head and walked over to the bound orc and as he started to undo the shackles, he stopped.

"how do I know you won't simply cast a spell on me and run on your way? Plus, how do you know I'm a drow? Could I not just be a high elf making his way through this land to report about the orcish armies and their leader Obould?" Drizzt questioned. Not wanting to be the recipient of any wizards spells no matter the race.

The orc looked over his shoulder, smiling., "Why won't I cast a spell as soon as you release me? Simple, you just saw I can cast spells with these shackles on and I haven't tried to use any on you. Also, you move like none other. I'd probably die as soon as the words started to escape my lips. I know you're a drow because I've heard stories about you, a drow who lives on the surface with a dwarf and two humans, wields twin scimitars and can move like no other living thing. Besides, any REAL high elf would have killed me for simply implying he was a drow. That and he would be in a group and probably have a bow and a standard of some sort, not be too careful about his face be seen, and probably not have snowy white hair such as yours. So you're name would be Drizzit right?" his voice filled with the scent of know-it-all.

Drizzt did laugh this time, a short laugh at how this orc drew conclusions about the people he met. "actually, the names pronounced Drizzt" he said as he then undid the latch that held the shackles over the orc's hands and forearms. "would you have a name?"

The orc rubbed his arms to get feeling back into them, "yes I do. That name is Timothy, but, seeing at how that name can be a little bit long for use in an instance of danger, just call me Tim." Tim then looked at Drizzt's cowled face, "now how about food?" as he started to remove the packs of the deceased orcs.

"so Tim," Drizzt remarked. "how did you get that name anyway? It seems so strange for you to have such a name, who gave it to you?" Drizzt then stared hard at Tim, seeing him give a barely noticeable flinch "… or did you take it from another?"

Tim looked directly into Drizzt's barely visible eyes as he rummaged through the one of the backpacks. "It was given to me… By… never mind, we have no need to discuss this now, I can search these packs while we walk, we might want shelter if we're going to be out here." he looked towards the sky, in which the sun had already finished dipping into the horizon and the moon started to shine in its glory among the stars. Tim then shuddered. "it's getting a little chilly as well."

Drizzt nodded in agreement. "I'd take you to Mithral Hall, my home, but I don't believe they would welcome you in open arms." he said, "the best you could hope for is a cramped cell and the meager rations of an unpopular prisoner" he then started to walk in the towards Mithral Hall, following the very slight signs he left himself just in case he had to get back to Mithral Hall. He looked behind himself to see Tim getting up and walking after him feeling through the bags.

Tim looked up at Drizzt, "I'm going with you. I don't expect much from dwarves at war. I just hope that I'm not killed outright." Tim face then light up as he pulled out what seemed to be a ragged book bound by leather, as well as some tubes.

"what did you find?" Drizzt asked when he glanced over his shoulder as he was following the trail.

"I found my book and my scroll cases! I thought that they would have surely burned them for fire!" Tim said with a modicum of glee. He then stowed them in a nearly empty bag in which he had been putting the near-spoilt rations he found in the other bags.

The rest of the trek was uneventful and moderately quiet, save for the sounds of Tim's footsteps, his breathing, and about every time he moved or did something Drizzt noticed.

'Not quiet at all. I'm surprised we haven't been attacked yet.' he thought to himself after one particularly loud step that crackled a thin layer of ice that had formed over the snow.

Within an hour of that noise, the torches carried by some of the wall guards became visible. Drizzt could almost feel Tim's fear while the orc wrapped bandages to disguise his face, and he started to have second thoughts, what if the guards shot without asking questions first? How would Bruenor react to any orc, no matter what sort of orc, being in his precious Hall? How would the rest of the battlehammer clan feel for that matter, or Wulgar, or even Cattie-Brie? With everyone's war with Obould, how would they react to one of his kind sitting with them at dinner, so to speak?

A crossbow bolt landed directly in front of his path, interrupting his thoughts. He followed where the arrow came from to a dwarven guard holding a heavy wooden crossbow standing atop the wall.

"Who goes there!" he shouted down to Drizzt, not yet noticing Tim

Drizzt looked at the dwarf and shouted back "It's me, Drizzt, and if you don't believe me, you can go get that lazy king of yours down here to prove it!" as he took off the cowl to show his face and the half-smile on it.

"Ah, should've know it was ye, we'll open the gates. Cattie's been a mite worried 'bout ya when ya did no show up after dark, ye should speak wit 'er first chance you ge…" the dwarf broke off, suddenly noticing the drow's companion. "Who're ye?" his voice turning into pure venom. As his face twisted from what it was to a deep scowl at this newcomer.

"He is a friend and partly why I am late this night." Drizzt said quickly, attempting to avoid recognition of Tim's heritage. "can we come in now?"

"Alright, seein' as e's with ye, but first, can ye give me yer name?" the guard replied, only the smallest hint of suspicion in his words. Tim flinched just a little bit as he cleared his throat and began to answer.

"My full name and title to you my good sir guardian Dwarf, is Timothy the learned, wandering scholar and student of the world. You can shorten it to Timothy, or if you like, Tim. My new and frankly really good friend Drizzt here saved my life twice so far today and I am indebted to him beyond any save one other living being." Tim said in near perfect dwarven. Stunning both the guard and Drizzt.

The guard gave a small smile, "alright then," then, shouting behind him, "Open the gates!"

"what for?" a bored voice yelled back, "is that elf back er sumtin'!"

The guard went red in anger under his beard and helmet, "Yea 'e is! And if ye don' open the gods forsaken gate, I'll throw ye in the damned river!" he burst out in a scream of rage.

The iron gates to Drizzt's left slowly started to creak open, pushing snow out of its path. Drizzt looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide at what he heard Tim say. Tim just shook his head, as if he was disappointed yet relieved at the deception that he pulled on the Dwarf atop the wall. Drizzt motioned for him to follow him through the now open gate that led right into Mithral Hall, and right into the hands of those that would kill him nary a second thought if they new what kind he was. Drizzt himself didn't know if he truly trusted Tim. After all, Obould had also risen above the famous idiocy of his race, there could be other orcs just as underhanded as Obould but with less ambition, couldn't there be? Hopefully though, Tim was not a spy and was actually was good natured as he seemed. And if that was true, that Drizzt's own trust in Tim would be enough to keep all of clan battlehammer from killing him as soon as the information such as his race was revealed. But, that was his leap of faith. Drizzt knew he had to try, at least for the memory of the goblin slave he had met years ago.


	3. To the King!

((AN: I gets it! Knows that I messed up, I'm sorry. Its lavender eyes, not face, I'd appreciate it if people stopped telling (when my DnD group read the story, each individually and each making comments about it put me a little frustrated over it) so here's another chapter for yall, and for the love of the upper planes, review, I need the input (but not about the face thing! ;) ))

To sum it up in his head, Tim thought just one word, Fuck. To him, this was probably the most dangerous thing he ever let himself do in his life. 'not even my mentor would have thought this a bright idea' he thought to himself as Drizzt got the Dwarves to open the gate.

The problem wasn't going to be with the first dwarves, not unless the wrappings he put on his face fell off, nor would it be with the dwarves him and Drizzt would likely pass in the halls. It would be when they got to the throne room. For it would certainly be there that if nothing else, his accent, no matter how well spoken he was, would reveal his race to the dwarf king, That or he would have to take off the wrappings and show his face, and so far into Mithral Hall, he would most certainly not make it out alive…

'Of course you will! The dwarves here learned to trust Drizzt, and he's a drow, the dwarves here had to fight the drow for the safety of their home! Same as with the orcs! They won't kill you outright, not with Drizzt vouching for you' he thought, but then flinched as another though hit him. 'what if Drizzt thinks me a spy? After all, Obould is said to be cunning, and with so many orcs out there, chances are one of them would be able to wield magic other than those shamanistic fanatics. Maybe he thinks this is all but a ploy to gain the trust of the Hall only to betray them in the end and give another opening for this self proclaimed orcish 'king'. maybe he's setting me up for a sort of test!' Tim grunted at himself as he followed Drizzt past the gate and through the open yard that stood between the wall and the entrance into the Dwarves great home. 'where they had killed many of your kind' a small dark part of his mind sneered. The same dark part of his mind that would have liked it if he never left his former tribe and pursued a life without hatred and never ending war.

The door into Mithral Hall stood intimidating, as if to dare it's enemies to try and wrest it from the dwarves who lived there. And as it opened, the darkness in Tim's mind writhed with joy and agony, joy for going where his kind had never been before, and agony at the sheer greatness and good that it stood for that was being sullied by his mere presence.

Drizzt turned to him, his eyes meeting Tim's. "We are going to meet my good friend Bruenor, I cannot deceive him. So you will have to show yourself for what you are, I will try to get it to be private, so that you won't get killed by any outraged dwarves."

Tim nodded understandingly and soon the door swung open and he walked in behind the drow, and with each passing dwarf he apprehension grew, afraid one of them might recognize his bodies shape as the same as their enemies. Or that the wrappings covering his face would loosen enough to reveal his enough of his face. It didn't help that all the dwarves knew Drizzt and were waving at him in greetings and watching him and his new companion pass through the halls towards the throne room with curiosity.

The guards at the door to the throne room gave a happy nod to Drizzt as he and his guest passed them, glad to see him well after a days incursion into Obould's territory. The guards, Tim noticed, wore suits of fine Mithral scale mail, and were armed with axes and shields of the same light weight yet durable mineral that was the Hall's namesake. Tim flinched slightly as the thought of the dwarves using weapons from that precious mineral on him.

The throne room door opened with a nod. And through it Tim saw the dwarf king Bruenor Battlehammer, seated on a well-crafted stone throne, the dwarf who trusted Drizzt and was like family to him. He sat less like a king and more like someone who'd rather be in the open air, cleaving his enemies with the exceptionally well crafted and notched axe at his side. Near Bruenor were two humans and a Halfling. The first human was female, with fiery red hair and piercing eyes that spoke of a similar fire in her soul. The next one, a large and well muscled male, stood there with the look of one who had felt deep pain, deeper than one could ever hope to understand, and he stood with a determined pride that would never back down. The Halfling, a portly male with the air of pacifism around him, one who didn't go out of the way to fight, but fought when he absolutely needed to. Others were in the room as well, like a dwarf in a strange wheeled device, as well as one with the symbol of the dwarven god Moradin on his chest and over his beard.

They all looked upon Drizzt with joy when they saw he bore no wounds. Tim felt a pang of sadness mixed with jealousy for the drow and how fortunate he was. The companions of the hall then looked upon the newcomer to their mists.

"Bah! What're ya gonna bring here next ya durned elf? wolf cubs? He got a name?" the dwarven king shouted out "Ha! But it is nice to see ye back elf, and I expect a full recount of what happened and how you met this.." he motioned towards the cloaked and cloth wrapped orc.

"Timothy" Tim interrupted. "Or Tim."

"… Aye, how you met this Tim 'ere. Gods know ye should! Seein' as meself canno' get out and kill orcs in jist cause its winter! Bah!" He then laughed heartily. "but seriously then, what in the gods name happened to yer face? Its like ye were badly burnt 'er sumtin, c'mon! Its not like we're goin' at be startled by anything that happened to ye!"

Before Tim could reply, Drizzt coughed into his hands, and spoke up. His voice calm and gentle, but firm and serious.

"Actually, that is partly what Tim would like to do, he has some things to tell you, and would prefer to tell you in private."

At this, the Halfling spoke up, his eyes suddenly growing suspicious as he looked closely at the cloth and cloak that hid the face of the guest from the world, "why is that?"

"If it makes you feel better, the rest of you companions of the hall can join as well." Tim quickly replied, his cultured voice nearly faltering. "it does involve the rest of you, more or less."

At this, the companions of the hall grew even more curious of this visitor that their friend brought into their midst. Bruenor nodded, and jumped down from his 'throne' and strode to his meeting chambers, with the rest of the companions in tow.

After making their way to the meeting chambers, they all set around the half circle stone table (think of half a donut, and you're there) with Bruenor in the middle and Drizzt to his left with the Woman. To Bruenor's right sat the Halfling and the hulking man, the dwarf in the wheeled chair and the dwarf with the holy symbol had left them. All eyes were on Tim, standing in the middle area of the table. Tim sighed, a knot in his stomach and more than a few lumps in his throat. He cleared his throat, and began to speak

"Before I tell or show you anything I need your words that you will remain seated until I've had a chance to explain, is This understood?" He asked in as firm and commanding a tone he could command with so many potential enemies giving him their full attention.

The companions looked at one another with their suspicion and curiosity building . They looked unsure of whether or not to trust this stranger, even Drizzt, who had some small doubts of his own.

"I give you my word Timothy, for all it is worth." The giant of a man next to the Halfling said first, surprising everyone else at the table, who expected Drizzt to be the first.

"What Wulfgar said. My word is yours"

"I pledge you the word of Cattie-Brie, I shall remain seated"

"Get on wit' this or I won't remained seated and kick ye arse!"

The Drow was the last, "I hope my word is as good as my friends when I say I will not get up until you are finished."

"All right then. First I will tell you what I know and have heard of the situation in general. Obould Many-Arrows has gathered a great army and claimed much territory, laying siege to this very hall as well. His hordes were pushed back. He has made a large claim to the land and is calling it the Kingdom of Many-Arrows. currently he is trying to consolidate his power and grow for an attack in the spring. that's as much as I know, besides the obvious current sentiments against orcs right now more or less being higher than normal."

Tim sighed again. As he reached up to the knot in the back that kept the rags from falling off. He loosened the knot, and then pulled the rags down to his neck…


End file.
